


Home.

by moonorchiids



Category: Wandersong (Video Game)
Genre: A metric ton of sadness, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, I wanna. Know more about her, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's 2 am and I just woke up, Running Away, So I made more about her, Wandersong is. So great, i feel bad, i love audrey, too much probably...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23025025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonorchiids/pseuds/moonorchiids
Summary: Escaping was futile. She was willing to try anyways.(aka; me: ily, now fucking suffer)(alt 2: Audrey best girl!!)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





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**Author's Note:**

> yo here's some sad shit!!! yeehaudrey is best girl.
> 
> on a more serious note, this is really dark in comparison to the game itself, so dbfbajhsfbjabd... i'm proud of it though. this is sort of my idea as to why she wanted to be the hero so badly; because she wanted the power she never got to have in her life.
> 
> she gets a happy ending in this because she's cool-
> 
> Edit from the future: woah this is edgy, calm down satan?? idk what was going through my head when i made this. it's just...???? eh. it doesn't fit in with the "vibe" of wandersong but, im gonna keep it up because it's not actually poorly written. at least not in comparison to what i usually make. i doubt anyone's really gonna like this, but, y'know...maybe?

She was wounded again.

Weak.

All she could hear was her parents yelling.

She was 16, but she felt like a useless child.

The chill in just her closet was overwhelming, and not helping the healing burn wounds on her neck, let alone her hands.

Then again, nothing helped them. Dad wouldn't pay a cent to keep her live on her deathbed, no matter how rich they got.

_"Act like a Redheart, young lady! Your mother could handle twice as much pain and kill a man twice her size!"_ Her father had compared her to her mother more than a thousand times, but it hurt just as much.

**"But I don't want to kill anyone!"**

_"Then you aren't a Redheart! You're weak!"_

She shuddered. Thinking about it just reminded her of the feeling of being _burned._

She ran a hand through her black, near navy blue hair, not catching a single rat. She had cut it just moments ago, leaving the back of her hair long, yet the front short save for two long strands, marking either side of fairly long bangs. She always had a talent for cutting her hair. 

She looked around her closet, wiping away her tears.

She'd planned this. Her stepmom wouldn't care at all, but her father might search.

For the sword, anyways.

She pulled on a pair of rubber, black gloves about the size of her lower arms. She stood to her feet, which wore steel-toed boots. She stood to look at the mirror. Blackened scars vaguely in the shape of handprints.

Her fath- Alexander's handprints.

She stared in disdain.

No, definitely not going outside with that showing.

She scowled, her brow furrowing. Her fists clenched so tight, they hurt.

And she punched the mirror.

The gloves shielded her from the shards, but indeed, she had aggravated the burn marks. She winced, but punched it again. The shards fell out of the frame. She stared at the glass, shocked. She really had.

She grabbed the sharpest shard. She'd need this for self defense. She didn't necessarily want to stab her father, but if push came to shove, it had to happen.

She easily snuck past her "parents." Even in steel toed boots, the arguing drowned out any footsteps. She stalked towards her father's bedroom, eyes narrowed. She gently shoved open his door, making sure to be silent.

When she got to the closet, it fell deathly silent. There, before her, her father's sword. A pastel blue and magenta katana honed to a wickedly sharp point, wrapped in her father's goldenrod scarf. 

She took both. Scourge, the sword, was almost as big as her, but was surprisingly light, and easy to swing.

The scarf would do just fine.

She wrapped it around her neck, hiding the scars and some of her lower face, almost dragging behind her. She heard footsteps, and her pulse skyrocketed. She took no time to steal any more than she had to, rushing out of the closet. She could almost feel her father scowl as he opened the door.

Audrey kicked the window, shattering it like the mirror. Her father shouted at her, but she was already out the window, on a nearby tree branch.

* * *

The snow almost froze her then and there. It was so cold. She clutched her scarf closer.

Then she drew Scourge. The beast had imprisoned someo-

She was falling, and Scourge was gone.

* * *

The Nightmare King was dead, so why wasn't everything gone?

She had feared it, yes, but...

Why wasn't it all over?

Then it occurred to her someone was carrying her. Who? She didn't know.

But oh god, it hurt. It hurt so much, everywhere. Her scarf was tied around her worst wound, dyed crimson from the bleeding, letting the burn scars see the light for the first time in 7 years. Whoever saved her saw the scars. Panic rushed through her system, before she fell asleep.

Or fainted.

* * *

Audrey let the memories flow through her, in place of sleep. It was all silent.

She was safe now.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay it's almost fuckin' 4 AM I don't have anything to say about this


End file.
